A Lesson in Obedience
by dmnq8
Summary: Marcus Hamilton decides he and Angel WILL be making love on that couch after all... Yaoi. Hamilton/Angel. Voyeurism, rape. Set in season 5 on Angel. Disclaimer in my profile.


A/N: Bullshit I came up with to get over a bout of writer's block. Done in a single sitting.

Beta: Blood Zephyr

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**A Lesson in Obedience**

"-And you and I won't be making love on this couch anytime soon," Hamilton sneered. At seeing the unflinching glare Angel gave him, he reconsidered. "Or maybe that's exactly what you need." His eyes traveled down Angel's chest in speculation.

Angel's eyes narrowed. He twisted his head a bit. "Come again?"

"Indeed," Hamilton smirked. "What better way to show you that as your new liaison with the Senior Partners that I'm quite unlike Eve? Perhaps it'll show you once and for all just where your place is in the grand scheme of things."

A moment of disbelief, as Angel gauged whether or not he was being fucked with. Then Hamilton's arm snaked around his neck with blinding speed and he reasoned that he wasn't… but he would be if he didn't do something about it.

There was a brief, furious scuffle that cracked his conference table in two, before Angel found himself on his knees with an unbreakable choke hold around his neck. Not that he needed air… but getting out of that hold would have his head off his shoulders; he couldn't overpower Hamilton at all. As these things tended to go, he waited to hear what Hamilton wanted, hoping against hope that he hadn't been serious about-

"Now," Hamilton breathed into his ear. "This can happen here or out in the lobby for all to see. Three seconds to decide."

Right. Like he was actually going to agree to any of it. "Gee, is there a third option? Like ripping your throat out?"

Another exchange of blows, this time sending his desk crashing halfway through the wall. Harmony poked her head in and was told politely by Hamilton to leave before she was dusted. She backed out hurriedly.

Hamilton turned to where Angel was spitting out blood on the floor. He straightened his tie. "Lobby it is." He walked over, snagged Angel by his collar, and began dragging him towards the door Harmony had closed.

"No… wait." Angel coughed out another mouthful of blood. Hamilton paused, looking down at him with interest, then staggered back as Angel's leg swept upward and crashed into his face.

Hamilton caught the foot before it could leave, merely blinking at the kick, and twisted sharply. There was a loud crunch of bones.

"Arrch!" Angel gargled wetly. Hamilton resumed dragging him. "All right!"

"All right, what?"

Angel mumbled something, hatred in the look he leveled at Hamilton.

"What was that?"

"… here…"

"Ah. Happy to oblige."

Angel saw the pleasant way Hamilton glanced around the office, saw the way his blue eyes came to rest on the couch, and knew he would give his soul to get even for this. He let himself be dragged, holding in his cry of pain as his broken ribs scraped against each other. His crushed windpipe had him coughing out yet another mouthful of blood, and his useless right arm screamed when he caught himself on both hands; Hamilton had just tossed him face first toward the couch.

-oOo-

His clothes were quite easily torn from his back. There went any hope of this being done with just his pants pulled down. He heard a belt buckle being undone and the faint sound of a zipper being lowered. Light rustling as underwear was moved down, and then Hamilton's warm hands grasped his hips.

He was kneeling on the couch, the rest of his body draped weakly over the back. A large –hideously large, and hard as granite- cock punched past his unresisting sphincter with an audible popping sound that had him rearing up despite his broken bones, and yelling through his clenched teeth.

Hamilton didn't move at first, and Angel stopped yelling at realizing just how hot that cock was, how the heat of it stole through his cold flesh to send a wave of warmth spreading outward from his ass hole. His teeth unclenched as he stared blindly at the sky through his window. Then Hamilton was moving.

Never in two hundred and fifty years had he discovered an urge to sample men, so his ass was virgin to the sensation of cock pumping powerfully back and forth in it. He'd been bone dry, so that added to the pain, but all Angel said as he caught sight of a faint reflection of Hamilton in the window, was, "Uuhh…" He was limp with the feel of warmth spreading through him. Not even sex with Buffy had warmed him like this. Hamilton was hot, he realized muzzily. And his cock was a scorching brand that was starting to feel really-

"Angel? Harmony said…" Wesley had come charging in through the door, only to be brought up by the sight of his boss getting vigorously pounded. And his boss was doing nothing about it. "Angel?" he said again uncertainly. Illyria, who'd tagged along behind Wesley, watched dispassionately.

Lorne came running up, pushing Wesley out of the way. "I heard Angel was being attacked by… oh, my." Lorne covered his mouth with one hand. As he watched, he felt that now would be a bad time to point out that Angel seemed to be curiously absent of any protesting remarks.

The three who were staring saw Hamilton lift Angel by his hips and walk with him to stand behind the couch. He had an arm around Angel's mid-section as he resumed his steady thrusting. "That way you can make eye contact with your audience," Hamilton said. He smiled, seemingly immune to anything his body might be feeling from his actions. He looked as composed and cordial as he always did, his brow free of sweat and his breathing calm.

Angel wished he could say the same of himself. Facing the shocked and disturbed faces of his friends, he found that embarrassment, though warm, was still nothing compared to the heat of that mobile cock in him. "Guys…" he rasped. What could he say? His eyes were closing as a languid stupor began taking over him. He felt his orgasm begin from a far way off… Angelus stirred in him.

Wesley got over his shock first. He leveled the shotgun he'd brought at Hamilton's head. "I believe that's enough. Let him go. Whatever spell or enchantment you have him under-"

"-Is far beyond your measly ability to comprehend," Hamilton finished amiably. He bent and plucked a piece of wood that had flown from the broken conference table from the floor. "Oh, and if you don't drop your gun your boss will be history." He held the make-shift stake over Angel's heart.

Wesley hesitated. Lorne put a hand on his arm and he reluctantly lowered the weapon until it was pointing at the floor. "You'll pay for this," he whispered. "Angel will see to it."

"No way he'll let this slide," Lorne agreed. But he frowned at the vibes Angel was giving off.

Hamilton smiled and leaned down to Angel's ear. "Hear that? They think this is against your will. You and I know differently, don't we champ?" He increased the force of his thrusts, making the couch squeak as it traveled jerkily across the floor with each one.

Illyria averted her eyes briefly in confusion, the first to feel the waves coming from Hamilton as a physical threat. She cocked her head at Wesley, wondering if he felt it. She'd been beyond the petty lusts and urges of lower beings in her time, but apparently this body she was in wasn't. She returned to staring at Wesley's leader and Hamilton, able to visualize the vibes that Lorne was only able to sense. Interesting.

Wesley's mouth tightened at hearing Hamilton's words. "Angel," he said sharply. "What does he mean?"

Lorne shook his head. "Don't bother asking…Mr. Looks-good-even-when-screwing is right. Angel was willing. More importantly, he still is… in fact, he's enjoying what's happening, and I'm not liking where his aura is heading."

Wesley winced as Hamilton began thrusting even harder, and Angel began a low moaning. "What do you mean?" He kept his voice low, and his eyes on Hamilton's calm gaze.

Lorne lowered his voice as well, though it was Wesley that Hamilton kept his eyes on. "I mean it's slowly turning black the longer Hamilton has his way with him. And there's entirely too much happy in it for a man being raped."

Hamilton seemed to have supernatural hearing along with supernatural strength. "That's right, boys and girls. My blood flows with the strength and power of the Senior Partners. As does all of my bodily fluids."

They were left to speculate on just what that meant as Hamilton leaned down to Angel's ear once more.

"Which is why you're probably feeling something akin to ecstasy right now," Angel heard. His mind was swirling in a fog of pleasure and desire. Behind the cover of the couch, his hand was madly fisting his own cock, and he could feel a lustful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As if from far away he felt a hand grab his head by the hair and yank backward, letting Wesley, Lorne and Illyria see the enjoyment on his face. He felt his nipples tighten at the thought of his friends and the former god watching his debasement, but couldn't decide if this reaction was due to shame or something else. He could feel Hamilton leaking something scalding hot inside him and knew, without looking, that his cum would be as black as the essence they'd taken from the cat in The White Room, when they'd tried to corporealize Spike. He could feel this inky discharge traveling up his ass, burning deliciously in his guts, spreading throughout his cold being until his orgasm was nearly upon him. Angelus was there, hovering just beneath the surface of his swiftly fading control… perfect happiness would come when Hamilton shot his load of evil into him; it would be enough to rip the gypsy's curse to shreds. Angel knew this, could feel it. A wispy thought surfaced in his mind: he shouldn't be going out like this.

Hamilton smoothly angled his cock, making Angel cry out as he saw stars. "Don't fight it," he said to the gasping vampire. "Once your true nature takes over, the Senior Partners will do everything in their considerable power to make sure it stays. Let it happen, Angel." Hamilton said as he continued to hammer him senseless. "You can't stop the inevitable… that's a lesson you've yet to learn." He glanced up and gave a smirk in Wesley's direction. "Isn't that right, Mr. Wyndham-Price?"

Wesley reasoned he'd been standing there too long. He suddenly became aware of his jeans growing uncomfortably tight, and the smell of Illyria's musky wildness struck him like perfume, making the shotgun seem too heavy to hold. Illyria was suddenly all soft woman against his arm. He glanced down at her and found her eyes capable of showing something other than godly disregard for her surroundings. They were large and limpid and gazing up at him with… desire. Her blue lips parted-

Lorne came up behind her, one green hand coming around her torso to fondle her small breast… just before he tore the front of her one piece open in a show of never-seen demonic strength. Wesley lowered his mouth to the quivering peak as Lorne drew Illyria's head back against his shoulder. He let his red lips nuzzle the bluish shell of her ear, while his hand played with the nipple not in Wesley's mouth.

Illyria felt her sex become drenched with the cream of her arousal and reached behind her to close a hand in Lorne's hair, perhaps to rip his head off for his effrontery. But no… the mouth on her breast sent alarming sensations rippling through the body she wore and speech left her lips without her permission. "Wesley…" Wesley had just slipped two fingers deeply inside her in a most insolent manner. The rubbing he began sucked the strength right out of her.

-oOo-

Angel saw this as if he was in a dream. He felt like Hamilton had always been thrusting brutally into him, and he'd always been on the brink of cumming out of his skull. Angelus had always been shouting in his mind to be set free, and Spike was walking in his office door with surprise stamped all over his admittedly handsome face.

Wait…

"Bloody _hell!_"

The sound of that familiar voice doused Angel in ice, slicing through the hot fog clouding his brain and stilling his frantically working hand.

No.

Not him.

He could stand anyone seeing him like this but _him._

"Spike-"

Spike staggered as the waves of evil lust and desire permeating the room briefly affected him. He stumbled, shook his head… then vamped out and threw himself at Hamilton with a roar.

Hamilton was borne backward, dislodged from Angel's body, as Spike bit into his neck, and tore a huge chunk away. He kicked Spike clear across the office so that he landed on top of the broken conference table.

Wesley lifted his head from between Illyria's thighs, saw what he'd been doing, and shot to his feet. "Illyria! I… he… good heavens," he stammered, covering his face with a hand.

Lorne was just as quick to stop kissing Illyria. He backed away, looking greener than usual, before he tripped on an overturned chair.

Illyria calmly stood up straight as if nothing untoward had occurred.

Angel felt his true thoughts, his _rage_, slam back to the forefront of his mind and rolled shakily to his hands and knees. He was in time to see Hamilton get to his feet holding his neck. He seemed more annoyed than anything else by the blood pouring through his fingers. Certainly his voice betrayed nothing of pain or discomfort. He put his penis away in his pants with his other hand… but not before Angel and everyone else had seen the viscous black sludge oozing from the tip. Seeing it, Angel could still feel it in him, sizzling away in his guts. He swallowed as he got painfully to his feet and covered his nudity with a couch cushion.

"I don't know what you did to me or my friends," Angel said with deliberation. "Nor do I care how strong you are or who you work for. I _will _find a way to kill you."

Hamilton looked around at where Lorne was avoiding looking at Illyria, Illyria was staring at Wesley, and Wesley was belatedly picking up his shotgun. Spike got off the table to stand beside Angel, as if to support him in a fight about to take place, no doubt against Hamilton himself. It was almost cute, how these mortals continued to believe in their own ability to change what couldn't be changed. He straightened his jacket, as he made his way towards the office door. Lorne and Wesley hastily moved out of his path. He paused at the door to fix Angel with smile.

"Next time, I'll make sure we're alone. Now that I know how to turn you… well, let's just say I'll be making Angelus's acquaintance very soon." He looked around at the rest of them and dropped a wink. "Watch your backs, children."

Angel considered, seriously, leaving Wolfram and Hart. It had already taken Fred. He'd lost Cordelia. He would lose Lorne and Wesley too, if he'd interpreted Hamilton's parting comment correctly, and he knew that he had. Looking over at Spike, he knew the threat wasn't lost on him either; the Senior Partners wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone standing in the way of Hamilton getting to Angelus.

The next attempt might not be so obvious, but it would come. And having felt how close he'd come to succumbing, Angel knew it was only a matter of time before they succeeded.

_You can't stop the inevitable, _Angel thought as sudden weariness for his long fight against evil swamped him. Wasn't that what Hamilton had been trying to teach him with his little lesson in obedience?


End file.
